As I am entering into my own self-inflicted self-isolation lockdown, and now approaching week eight, what can I say other than cabin fever has well and truly set in. And I relate more than ever than doggos the world over who are just kept in kennels through absolutely no fault of their own.
I would like to say that I am optimistic, but right now, I am just full of the cynicism of the Malcolm X Counter-Culture generation that I belong to about when I finally get discharged. The sun is shining, and just like my Patterdale Terrier, Oscar, I just want to go home and sunbathe in my own back garden. But needs must, another week. Will I ever go home? I really don't know, as the home I once had no longer feels like the home it's been for the last four years.
My natural fight or flight responses are kicking in and I just want to set up my new life as far away as my hometown as possible; and just snuggle up with my better half.